Protector in the Distance
by Lioness's Heart
Summary: The Tortallan-Tyran border is a dangerous place. There, Kel, Dom, and Neal are faced with a group of bandits who could turn a simple scuffle into the last battle of the beloved Protector of the Small. WARNING: character death and mild to major violence.
1. Part One: She Never Said Goodbye

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.  
A/N: I wrote this sometime back in the spring, right before I wrote Weirynsra, but it needed to be rewritten before I put it up…and it took me a long, long, long time to rewrite it. Heads up, it's extremely sad, and more than a bit violent. Also, this is a twoshot. It will not be extended, after the second part is posted, unless I get some major inspiration. All the same, enjoy.**

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Rain fell from a dark grey sky at the border between Tortall and Tyra. The droplets fell upon a group of people on horses. At the head of the group rode three people – a young woman, and two slightly older young men. The woman's hair was a light brown, and her eyes a dreamy hazel color. She was tall and lean, and her seat on her chestnut mare was nearly perfect – a testament to years of practice. The man on her right had reddish-brown hair, swept back from his face in a widow's peak, and deep green eyes. The man on her left was visibly taller than both of them. His hair was far darker than that of his companions, even with the rain. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, an entrancing color, at the very least.

Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan shifted in her saddle, her eyes flicking cautiously over the landscape. They weren't expecting trouble, but it was always useful to be wary. She wore only the breastplate of her battle armor, because the metal was cold, and there was nothing to suggest that she would actually need it. She also wore her leather gauntlets, but the rest of her armor was in her saddlebags, where it was of little use to her.

The brown-haired man on her right – her best friend, Sir Nealan of Queenscove – also wore very little armor. The other, Domitan of Masbolle, newly promoted commander of the third company of the King's Own (of which the other men in the party are members of), however, wore no armor at all.

They weren't expecting trouble at all – a few unconfirmed rumors of Tyran bandits had floated around, but no one had been able to prove them, as of yet.

Kel was not particularly happy. She was wet, and there wasn't anything familiar to her for miles. A second later, whatever wishes for excitement had drifted through her mind were answered.

A silver-fletched arrow flew past her face, the tips of the feathers passing but a millimeter from the tip of her nose. Instantly, almost everyone in the group turned toward where the arrow had come from. Bandits stood on the low rise of the nearest hill, on the right of the group. The lady knight wheeled her horse toward the men. She gave a hand signal to the men of the King's Own, a third of whom followed her as she kicked her horse into a trot up the hill.

"Stay here," she ordered her friends. She had no intention of risking either of them if she could take care of this little problem herself.

Some of the bandits turned to flee when they saw the lady knight and part of the Own moving quickly up the hill towards them. Kel smiled coldly as she drew closer to those who refused to run.

That was when the pain hit. An arrow bloomed from right below her collarbone, the shaft fletched with a Stormwing feather. She almost cried out, but her Yamani training prevailed, and she uttered but a small wince.

She drew her sword. The shining shaft of steel was enough to change the smugness in the eyes of the archer who had fired that arrow into genuine fear. She cut him down without a second thought. She bit her lip as her arm screamed in protest.

She turned Hoshi, urging the mare farther up the hill. Another arrow hit her, in the side. She did scream this time, as the arrow's sharp shaft pierced her skin. Hoshi slipped on the mud, nearly crushing Kel before she regained her footing. It was too late for the lady knight to regain her balance at that point, and she jerked forward, flying out of the saddle. She was thankful when she landed – she had landed on her back, instead of her stomach.

Despite the fact that she was now covered in mud, she reached up to the arrow shaft that pierced her shoulder, and snapped it. She bit back a cry as she did so. It was then that she realized that the arrows were Stormwing-fletched.

That didn't make sense. Why were they using mage-killers on her? She was no mage – she didn't have the Gift, or even wild magic. Pushing those thoughts aside, she placed her hand on the other arrow, and snapped its shaft as well, biting back another cry of pain. Quickly, she tossed the shafts away and picked up her sword again.

As she rose, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye. The movement caught her attention, and she turned. Dom, Neal, and the rest of the King's Own rushed up the rise, to the aid of their comrades and friends. Her eyes caught on Dom, mud-stained as he was, she was still drawn to him. When she turned again, she let out a yelp as another arrow punched through her armor. The silver feathers marked this as yet another Stormwing-fletched arrow.

Where had these bandits gotten arrows that were fletched with Stormwing feathers, much less decided to use them on her? Stormwing feathers, when used on arrows, struck through a mage's shield, or any kind of magic. Griffin-fletched arrows would fly true, no matter now bad your aim was. There were so many other kinds of feathers for them to use, so why did they chose to waste the precious arrows on which Stormwing feathers resided?

She moved forward again, determined that this archer, who was now aiming at Neal, would lose his bow, if not his life. Even before she had moved more than three steps, five more archers turned to train their bows on her.

As she lifted her sword, they loosed their arrows. Three flew harmlessly past her, while one hit her sword arm, causing her to drop the weapon. Another hit her lower thigh, the sharp point creating a searing pain where it had hit.

She lost her footing, and began to slide down the rain-soaked hill. She watched helplessly as the bandit leader shouted harshly at his archers in Tyran. The archer handed over his bow, as well as one of the arrows that they had been shooting at her.

The leader raised the bow, taking careful aim at Kel. He let the arrow fly once he was sure it would hit her. The silver-fletched arrow flew true, punching through her armor, and hitting its intended victim just below the heart.

Kel wavered where she stood, still trying to stay standing in the slick mud. Finally, her knees gave out on her, and she slid to the bottom of the hill.

As she reached the bottom of the muddy hill, her eyes fell upon a very mud-splattered Dom. He was sliding down the hill as well, though he was still astride his horse. He was dealing with a bandit wielding a double bladed axe. By chance, Dom glanced in her direction. His blue eyes widened as they met her hazel ones.

After a moment, he tore his gaze from her, and raised his spear to dispose of the bandit in front of him. The bandit dropped, and Dom turned his gelding to face Kel, urging the horse forward.

Instinctively, Kel glanced back up the hill at the bandit chief. He raised the bow again, this time aiming at Dom. The young commander didn't see the bow raised in his direction.

"Dom!" Kel shouted, pointing to the bandit. Dom followed her gaze to see the arrow pointed in his direction. His eyes widened again, as he tried to urge his horse out of the way, but it was too late. The bandit let the arrow fly.

At the last second, Dom shook his feet from the stirrups and dove from the saddle, barely getting out of the path of the arrow in time. He tumbled down the hill, getting covered in mud once more.

At the base of the hill, he scrambled toward Kel's kneeling form, slipping and sliding in the slick mud. As she watched him, blackness began to slowly enclose her vision, while the rest of her sight began to blur. Her strength was beginning to fade – she'd lost too much blood.

The darkness crept up, threatening to envelope her in its cold embrace before she was ready to let it. The weakness she felt wasn't just in her mind. It was very real.

As she tried to stay in the kneeling position, she found that she no longer had the strength the fight the waves of dizziness that washed over her. Kel's legs slipped from under her, as she fought to keep her position. She slid down the remaining stretch of incline.

Dom continued to stumble toward her, while the blackness enclosed her vision little by little. All she could see now was the grey sky. She was dying; she could feel it. Fire surged from where the arrowheads had hit. She moved her head slightly to see Dom kneeling next to her.

He was almost completely covered in mud, only a few places on his face were clean. His deep blue eyes stood out starkly against the dark brown of the mud. There were tears in them already. He knew what was wrong. He knew that she was dying. He gently lifted her head from the mud, a single tear slipping down his mud-covered cheek.

"Oh, Kel…" He shook his head, trying to fight back his tears, and trying to find the words to say what was on his heart. He hesitated for a moment, unsure how to say it.

"I…you should know, Kel. I love you." She managed a small smile flickered across her face.

"Love you, too, Dom. I-I…." She trailed off struggling for breath.

The blackness began to enclose her again; she didn't even try to fight it this time. The last thing she saw was Dom's tear-streaked, mud-splattered face. Kel gave him a weak smile, even as her last breath passed through her lips.

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**A/N: Sad, huh? Let me know what you think. I'll probably end up writing part two after I'm done with chapter four of Piper's Rain, so it'll be a few days, at least.**


	2. Part Two: I'll Never Forget

**Disclaimer: Not. Mine.  
A/N: Finally! It took me ages (over two months, actually) to write this. But I did it!**

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As her last breath escaped her lips, something inside him broke. His heart would never allow him to forget what happened there that day. In that instant, he began to feel pain that wasn't physical. His heart had broken when Kel had breathed her last.

Dom stared at her unmoving body for a moment, his mind and heart screaming that it wasn't true, that it was a dream. But he knew it wasn't. Tears streamed down his mud-splattered face, becoming one with the rain that continued to fall.

Why had he waited so long to tell her how he felt? Why hadn't he told her before she'd left Steadfast after the weddings? Why hadn't he taken advantage of his position and the news that he'd gotten a few weeks before? Why, why, why? He shook his head, as much to clear it as for the sake of movement. How was it that Kel, the Protector of the Small – the Chamber of the Ordeal's chosen, could be killed by Mithros-cursed _bandits_? That just wasn't fair. She had faced Immortals, Scanran warriors, and Stenmun Kinslayer, and she hadn't faltered a single one of those times.

Dom knelt there for what seemed like years. It wasn't until Neal came up behind him that his mind even began to work again. "Dom?" He placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Dom, you have to fight. Your men need you. They're counting on you. Think of what Lord Raoul would say." Dom looked up at him, his blue eyes full of more pain than Neal had thought possible.

"I loved her, Neal, and I didn't tell her until it was too late. Now I've lost my chance and the woman I loved," Dom said. Before Neal could respond, Dom was on his feet again, Kel's sword in his hand. He would fight, but only in her memory, only for her.

That was all that kept him going through the long hard fight ahead of them. It seemed as though the waves of bandits would never stop - even as they defeated them, more seemed to appear out of nowhere. Then, finally, it was over. It took Dom a moment to realize that the battle had ended, that they had defeated the last of the bandits. He released a sigh of relief.

Then the pain and grief washed over him again. Kel was gone.

The men of the Own arrayed themselves in squads to see if they'd lost anyone. Miraculously, they hadn't – several had been severely injured, but amazingly, none of them had died. Kel was the only casualty of the day. She had also been the target of the attack, from the way it looked.

Dom ran a hand through his hair, not caring how muddy he was. He couldn't believe this was happening. It just didn't seem right. How was it that out of the entire group, the only person who had been killed was a knight? She should have been better protected and prepared then any of the soldiers were. Dom let out a sigh that almost turned into a sob. He felt Neal's hand on his shoulder again.

"I know how you feel, Dom. She was my best friend. She wouldn't have wanted you to mourn her. She knew what she was doing when she became a knight. It was her dream, and her wish. She knew how dangerous her life would be when she chose this life."

Dom nodded, thinking. He glanced back at his cousin to see that there were tears in Neal's eyes. "Let's go."

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Dom stared at the words on the paper that had been in front of him for hours. It was covered in scratched out words and teardrops. It was so hard for him to write about Kel, even for the tribute to her life that Raoul had asked him to write. The words just didn't want to come. Dom sighed and turned the quill over in his fingers, thinking about the friendship he and Kel had shared. Finally, he began to write.

_Keladry of Mindelan was an extraordinary person. She was strong, brave, honorable, and courageous. She was a good leader, and a loyal friend. In all the years since I met her, I've never met anyone who embodies those qualities better than she. Even after she proved herself many times, those who opposed her still would not see her worth, and continued to call her names and place obstacles in her path. Even then, she was kind and she never struck out at them in vengeance. _

_She served steadfastly with the men of the King's Own, and made many friends among the people she met and worked with. She was an inspiration not only to the young girls she met, but to everyone._

_Kel risked everything for the refugees in her camp, Haven. Lord Wyldon of Cavall assigned her where he thought she would be best, and she accepted it, even though she had hoped for a different position. Never once did she falter in her duty to the refugees. When they were taken, she went after them, single-handedly at first, until her friends joined her. She risked her shield and her life for the people she was to watch over. _

_I know Kel will be missed, especially by those of us who knew her best. History may eventually forget the name of Keladry of Mindelan, but I won't, and neither will the rest of her loved ones. She was a special person, there's no denying that. I'll never forget Kel, I promise._

_Yes, that's it_, he thought. Those were the words he had been looking for. He almost smiled at the last line. He would never forget her, even if he tried, he would never be able to. It was just that simple.

Dom glanced up when the bell rang. With a sigh, he got up from his chair, changed, picked up his paper, and started on his way down to the funeral. Forgotten on his desk was a sealed letter with a single line of script across it: _Keladry of Mindelan._

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**A/N: Review, please! I want to know what all of you think! **


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